


It Figures

by KuraNova



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And Ignis Buys Into It, Artist AU, Bad Flirting, Bad Naked Flirting, Because Who Wouldn't?, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, On Gladio's Part, Romantic Fluff, attempted sexual tension, long term attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraNova/pseuds/KuraNova
Summary: Desiring to improve upon his drawing skills, Ignis signs up for a figure drawing class. He doesn’t realize Gladio, a long-time friend, is the nude model.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp  
> This is happening.  
> Have another attempt at Gladnis, friends! :) I'm actually very excited to be sharing this with you.  
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, I operate on a self-advocacy honor system. I will try to warn for challenging topics accordingly, but if something bothers you, please make a good decision for yourself. I promise I won't be upset if you need to bow out, not that I anticipate this fic being anything but fluffy self indulgence.

Ignis sighed through his nose, watching his charge and, admittedly, one of his dearest friends leaf through a sketchbook he’d carelessly left out on the coffee table in his apartment. He’d only taken it out for a moment, feeling a nostalgic urge to look back on some of the pieces he’d sketched back in his college days. Those classes hadn’t been necessary, of course, but he’d found joy in them just the same. When he had stepped into that studio, it was as if all of life’s challenges seemed to drain away, leaving naught but his newsprint and charcoal and the smell of freshly sharpened pencils. 

He glanced down at the drawing Noctis was studying, and recalled how he’d fallen asleep the night before feeling that familiar sense of easy being - a quiet mind - which was likely why he had left his sketchbook out for anyone to discover.

“Iggy, you’re amazing! I had no idea you could draw.” Noctis, ever curious, flipped to the next page and made another pleased sound at what he found there. 

If they weren’t running behind schedule, Ignis might have found the time to feel bashful. “It was just something I did when I was attending university,” he deflected, not very adept at taking compliments even if they were from Noctis. “An elective credit.”

“Have you ever thought about picking it up again? Drawing, I mean.” Noctis hummed happily, thumbing through another image.

“No. What purpose would it serve in my current position, regardless?”

Noctis turned to scowl at him, his dark hair backlit by the morning light streaming through his living room windows. “I dunno. Fun, maybe?”

Ignis eyed him warily. Did he really have the time to be entertaining even the thought?

“I’m serious,” Noctis continued. “You’ve been talking about ‘expanding your horizons, or whatever. Why not do something you’re at least a little familiar with?”

Ignis held out his hand for the sketchbook, and Noctis returned it to him with a reluctant gentleness. “Perhaps you’re correct. I’ll look into a few of the local programs.”

“Prompto knows a guy-”

“Noctis, I am  _ not _ going to Doctor Sketchy’s. It might be a perfectly reputable establishment, but the name alone would raise questions, should the conversation even come up.”

Noctis rolled his eyes at him, a gesture Ignis had long ago learned to overlook. “Whatever, Specs,” he said. “Prompto says it’s a good spot, and you know how he is about being in a comfortable space when looking for serious critiques on his photography. I’m sure he could tell you more if you messaged him.”

Ignis glanced at his watch. “Perhaps later,” he relented. “But now we should be going, or you’ll be late for your exam.”

 

* * *

 

One week later, at approximately seven p.m. Ignis found himself in front of Doctor Sketchy’s  _ Anti-Art School _ .

Honestly.

He was there for the figure drawing block. A class, Prompto had assured him repeatedly, that was perfectly professional and full of individuals that wouldn’t snigger rudely the moment a model divested themselves of their clothing. 

Ignis would see about that. He was still leery of the venue, for all of the pleasing reviews he’d read online. He’d come a little early, in fact, to observe the building and assure himself that he was not making a poor decision without curious eyes observing him in turn. The edificace of the place was tidy enough, and when he stepped inside he was greeted with the pleasing scent of pencil wood mixed with some brand of incense he couldn’t identify. It was … acceptable, so much so that he could feel himself begin to relax, starting with the tension in his shoulders. 

There was a receptionist sitting behind a high desk to the side of the entryway, who looked up at the sound of the little bell handing over his head that rung when the door closed behind him and smiled warmly at him. He checked himself in for his block and the clerk, realizing he was early, offered him the opportunity to have a look around their storefront. Ignis immediately took him up on the offer, and spent the next several minutes browsing the various drawing and painting tools available for sale, as well as what he assumed was patron artwork hung along the walls. The bell rung several more times as he wandered, likely others arriving for the same session he was interested in.

Despite the name, this was clearly a place for creative minds, and Ignis found himself eager to begin.

“Hey Iggy!”

Ignis looked up, startled, and discovered Gladiolus Amicitia staring down at him from his considerable height. “Gladiolus?” Of course it was Gladio, he told himself irritably. No one else dared call him ‘Iggy’ aside from Noctis and Prompto, and those two were off galavanting around in the arcades. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Gladio smiled eagerly at him and stepped closer into Ignis’ space to see what he had been looking at.

Used to Gladio’s odd definition of personal space, Ignis merely made room for the man. “Nor was I expecting you. Are you an artist, Gladio? I hadn’t noticed you enjoyed such pursuits.”

Gladio stepped closer when Ignis had moved, and Ignis sighed internally, but allowed himself to bask in the warmth that radiated from the man’s body. Gladiolus had always been an extroverted, friendly person, especially where Ignis was concerned, and so he could not find it in himself to be discomfited by the proximity.

Unless, of course, one considered his very minor attraction to Gladiolus. It’d always been there, Ignis knew. He’d found Gladio pleasing to the eye since they were young, and admired his sound judgement and bracing intellect in spite of others who painted him in a more brutish light. He was, in a word, complementary to Ignis with regards to their service to Noctis. They worked well together under pressure and in the face of their liege's, at times, confounding infatuation with being the laziest human being alive. 

While they both had an avid love of literature and learning, Ignis was far more nurturing than Gladio, whose methods of motivation consisted less of bribery and more threats. It provided them a balance where they could play off one another to the fullest advantage, and keep Noctis in line without either one of them becoming too burdensome to their prince. That easy relationship had become something more meaningful to Ignis as the years had gone on, and while he appreciated Gladio’s friendship, he had always,  _ always _ wanted more.

“Artist, me? Nah,” Gladio rumbled, and Ignis swore he could feel the vibration in his feet. “I just come here for fun and to meet new people. All sorts of interesting types come here to hang out and decompress.” He turned his gaze from the shelf where he had been considering a particularly complex mechanical pencil and gave Ignis his full attention. Bearing the brunt of Gladio’s focus was a heady thing. Ignis could feel his eyes on him, the weight of his stare settling over him like a blanket. “Is that why you’re here?”

Ignis cleared his throat. “In a manner of speaking, yes.” He looked up at Gladio’s eyes, then to his mouth as he spoke, finding the play of stubble beneath his full lower lip entirely too distracting.  

“I figured. You’ve been kind of wound up lately.” Gladio winked at him, smiling eyes holding back real laughter at his expense. “Sure I can’t help with that?”

Ignis flushed from head to toe, but only reacted to his own embarrassment by pushing the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. “No,” he said sharply, difinitively, and regretting his tone the moment it left him. “Thank you.”

Gladiolus loved to tease him. He had said once, years ago, that getting a rise out of Ignis was something so rare that he lived for the moments he punctured through the wall of his professionalism. Ignis had always thought it was a shame that Gladio wasn’t more serious about his flirtatious provocations, because he might have been tempted to have a bit of fun in return.

There was no hope for it, of course. Gladio was naturally open and beguiling. It would be silly for Ignis to assume that their interactions were special in some manner. And to put a finer point on it, Ignis wasn’t even entirely sure Gladio was more than superficially attracted to men. 

Not that Ignis had been watching for signs.

Not in the slightest.

“Suit yourself,” his companion sighed, almost languidly, then opened his mouth to speak further when it was announced that the figure drawing block would be starting shortly, and participants should begin to find their seats.

“Ah, so it begins,” Ignis murmured, adjusting his carry-folio over his shoulder and made his way to the studio doorway.

“Mmhmm,” Gladio replied, keeping close to Ignis. 

Close enough, in fact, that should Ignis merely rock back on his heels, he would be leaning back into Gladio’s broad chest. It was a temptation, to say the least. 

Minor attraction, indeed. 

Ignis had expected Gladio to continue to follow him further into the studio, toward the back row of chairs arranged in a half circle around the stage where the model would pose. He did not expect his friend’s solid, commanding presence to leave him, nor did he anticipate Gladio striding purposefully toward the stage.

What on Eos did he think he was doing? He said he’d been here before. Surely, then, he was aware of the protocol at such meeting. Ignis had just prepared to quietly call out to Gladiolus and direct him back to his proper place in the audience when he began shedding his clothes. 

_ Oh, _ Ignis thought.  _ That’s what he meant when he said he wasn’t an artist. _

The expanse of Gladio’s bare back revealed itself, followed shortly by his pants, and then his briefs. Ignis wasn’t aware he was staring, that his mouth had gone dry at the sight of Gladio’s  _ perfect _ buttocks, until he caught Gladio’s gaze and the man  _ winked _ at him. Again.

The nerve.

Returning to himself, Ignis dropped into a nearby chair, adjusted his easel, and placed his sketchpad onto it to block Gladio from view. For a short while, that was. He busied himself by carefully selecting which drawing tools he thought best for a figure study, and trying  _ not _ to think about who that figure belonged to. How unfortunately awkward. Gladio was his co-worker, first of all, his entirely-too-attractive-for-his-own-good co-worker. And he was as naked as the day he was born. It wouldn’t have been such an ordeal, Ignis reasoned with himself, if he didn’t also find Gladio such hopelessly compelling individual. 

He did  _ not _ look at Gladion again until the study began. The time was structured first into short poses, five minute long gesture studies that were intended to warm up and activate the muscle memory necessary for most artists to draw with any real skill. 

Well, it was  _ certainly _ not chilly, Ignis groused internally. Gladio had decided to  _ face him _ during these warm-ups and, as much as Ignis tried to be objective about his gesture drawings, he could feel the man’s gaze on him. He chanced to look up, trying to get the angle of Gladio’s shoulders just so, and mistakenly locked eyes with him. 

Gladio’s eyes were always smiling, Ignis thought. This time, they appeared to be laughing at him as well. 

It was ridiculous, he thought, if Gladio kept that up he bordered on being an unsuitable model. But as he looked around, he realized that no one was paying attention to where or how Gladio was looking at him. Neither did they appear to be interested in Ignis’ reaction to it. Just as well. He needn’t be too embarrassed by the attention, or lack thereof, then.

For the first long pose, a thirty minute test of any model’s endurance that Ignis was certain Gladio would have no trouble managing, the man spread his legs and leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, looking up from beneath his dark brow, Ignis thought he looked the perfect likeness of a classical statue of Titan he had once seen as a child. But Gladio’s gaze was on him again and, this time, instead of looking away, Ignis challenged his smiling eyes with his own impassive stare. 

_ Let him try and be a tease _ , he said to himself.  _ I will be the victor this time. _

Ignis had just begun to study the depth of Gladio’s eyes, the shadow of his brow only bolstering their intensity, when his phone vibrated inside of his pocket. Immediately setting aside his work, he took out the device and found a message from Noctis. It was bracketed with a least a hundred little “praying hands” emojis, which Ignis took as a sign of apology. 

 

_ I’m so sorry, Ignis! I know this was the night of your figure drawing class, but Prompto stepped off a curb wrong and hurt himself. I think it’s his ankle. Anyway, he can’t walk, and I can’t carry him all the way to the hospital. Can you pick us up? I understand if you can’t. I’ll call Gladio if that’s the case. _

 

Ignis glanced up at Gladio again, a curious tilt to the man’s head. He mouthed Noctis’ name, then waved his hand at Gladio’s move to rise. Prompto’s injury did not require Gladio’s attention, and Ignis was more than capable of taking care of something that, likely, did  _ not _ require a hospital visit. He sent a quick reply to Noctis, and quickly began to pack his things. 

In his efficient rush, he had neglected his sketchpad still resting against the easel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t sound stupid,” Ignis said, and tentatively, Gladio’s gaze returned to his, and he felt the warmth of his friend's consideration like the rays of the sun against his skin. “I only don’t know what to say,” He admitted quietly. “I wasn’t expecting-. Any of this.”
> 
> Gladio laughed, though it was a sort of weak, depreciated sound that Ignis _hated_. “Well, guess the ball’s in your court.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!   
> Thanks for all of the support for the first chapter! I'm not super confident about my Gladnis, so it was really great to get some feedback. I really love that you all are sharing this journey with me, and I hope you enjoy this latest installment. <3

Ignis had just finished wrapping Prompto’s very badly sprained ankle on the couch in Noctis’ living room when he felt his phone go off. He didn't reach for it immediately. Prompto was within sight and unlikely to land himself into any more predicaments, Noctis was in the kitchen just down the hall attempting to make his best friend something to eat, and Gladiolus could take perfect care of himself. All the people he cared for were safe and accounted for.

For now. He could smell toast burning.

Before he could rise to his feet to discover what manner of culinary mishap Noctis was dealing with, Prompto called to him. 

“Sorry, Iggy,” he mumbled, for what must have been the hundredth time.

Ignis hummed patiently. “It’s no trouble, Prompto. Noctis wasn’t exaggerating in regards to your injury, surprisingly.” Because his prince  _ always _ exaggerated where Prompto was concerned. Gladio teased him for it, but Ignis rather thought it the telling effusiveness of love that made Noctis behave so. 

There was a beat of silence before Prompto spoke again. “How was the class, by the way? The part you  _ did _ catch. Was it less scary than you thought it’d be?”

Ignis patted Prompto’s sprained ankle more firmly than was strictly necessary and pulled himself to his feet. “I wasn’t frightened at all. In fact, I suppose the experience was altogether rather enlightening.”

He would refuse to think on the manner of Gladio’s teasing until he was alone.

Prompto’s expression seemed to brighten at his words, however, and the careful omission of particular events at the class was well worth the pride evident in Prompto’s demeanor for even a fraction of a moment. Noctis’ friend was intelligent, a hard worker, and a gentle soul. Though he had no awareness of any of these. That, or he simply denied himself the pleasure of acknowledging them, feeling too uncomfortable at the thought of appearing full of himself.

Ignis could relate, actually. It was why he and Prompto got along rather well, and the reason for Ignis’ careful consideration of the boy’s self-esteem when they interacted.

Suddenly, the deafening sound of the smoke alarm blared overhead. 

Noctis, however …

When he looked, there was indeed smoke billowing out of the kitchen - and not a peep from Noctis. For as long as he had been the prince’s companion, Ignis knew that meant trouble.

“Noctis?” he called, amused at the idea of the prince attempting to cover up his lamentable cooking skills, nevermind a  _ fire _ . “Why is it getting smokey in here?”

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!”

As unlikely as he was to listen to such a request, Ignis was already walking down the hallway. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, the sight of the devastation hit him full force, and he tried mightily not to laugh outright at the veritable campfire burning in a pan on top of the stove while Noctis tossed a measuring cup full of water at it. The blaze hissed and popped, sending the prince jumping back to refill his cup.

“What on Eos were you attempting to make?” Ignis asked, waving a hand back and forth to clear the smoke from his eyes as he made for the sink to turn the water on full blast. 

“Toast,” Noctis coughed.

Ignis clucked his tongue, but made no further comment as he swiftly tugged on an oven mit, carefully avoided the leaping flames inside the pan as he grabbed the handle, and tossed the entire blazing mess into the sink. The flames died slowly, and when the smoke cleared Ignis spied the black hulking lump of char that  _ must _ have been the toast Noctis was referring to swimming lazily at the bottom of the flooded pan. 

“You realize,” Ignis said as he reached to turn off the stove burner, “that you are in possession of a toaster.”

“Yeah,” Noctis replied, a little mulishly, “but the bread was too wide. Figured a pan couldn’t be much different.”

Ignis eyed him a moment longer over the rims of his glasses. Noctis squirmed beneath his gaze. “In the future, when you make toast this way, keep the burner set to ‘low’. You had it on its highest setting. That doesn’t-”

“ -make food cook faster, it makes it burn faster,” Noctis finished for him. Clearly, Ignis had tried to impress this upon his charge before, to little effect. “Sorry.”

“No damage was done, and you weren’t harmed. Just be more careful in the future.”

Noctis nodded, appearing guilty enough as is though he’d only made a mistake. The world hadn’t ended, but Noctis had a tendency to shoulder every problem he came across, and then increase its weight a hundred fold with anxious worrying. Thus, making burned toast seem rather like the equivalent of first degree murder.

Ignis tried to reassure Noctis again, then gently shooed him out of the kitchen to go look after Prompto while he got to work putting together a proper supper for them. While he was working, he recalled that his phone had gone off earlier, and used a lull in his preparations to check for what he had missed. 

It was a text message from Gladio.

Typically, that was nothing unusual, but given the hour and the fact that they had only just encountered each other earlier that same night, Ignis’ curiosity was piqued. He would forever deny the odd little flutter in his chest as he opened the message and read the contents.

 

_ You left your drawings. Picked up up for you since I figure we’ll see each other before the next session. Got time? I can give them back tonight. _

 

There was another message shortly after the first.

 

_ Seems like you have a thing for asses. _

 

Ignis flushed from head to toe. Gladio had  _ looked _ through his sketches - his sketches of  _ him _ . Were there really so many depictions of Gladio’s, well,  _ finest _ feature? Had he honestly allowed himself to focus so intently on his unrequited desire for Gladio that he’d allowed his new sketchpad to be reduced to half-rendered scribbles of his friend’s  _ ass _ ? He was panicking, he realized, embarrassed at the thought of Gladio seeing just how much Ignis admired him - his body, in particular, and getting the wrong idea.

Although, Ignis considered, he had  _ been _ at a class to learn about how to represent the human form in a two dimensional space. He hadn’t done anything untoward, only sketched that with which he had been presented.  _ Gladio _ had been the one teasing him so.

Teasing, Ignis sighed, tension releasing from his shoulders. Gladio was only teasing him. 

_ Surely, this speaks more about you snooping through my sketchpad than it does about myself. _

 

Ignis hit the send button, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction that belied his wish to find the courage to explain to Gladio how he truly felt about him. Whether his feelings were reciprocated or not, things were reaching the point at which Ignis would rather be done with all of his fruitless hoping. Pining was exhausting, and somehow the encounter at the class seemed to bring all of his wishes and desires and  _ feelings _ for his friend to the fore. 

Perhaps it was the manner of Gladio’s teasing this time, so very different from his other myriad attempts to get beneath Ignis’ skin, that had changed things in such a way. Regardless, Ignis knew he would never be able to come out and put words to his feelings. 

 

_ So,  _ Gladio texted back,  _ are you free? Wanna give this back to you. _

 

_ I am just finishing up dinner for Noctis and Prompto. Where would you like to meet? _

 

Gladio’s reply was instant.  _ There’s a place down around the corner from Noct’s apartment. Diner. Open 24 hours. Meet you there in 30? _

 

Ignis glanced at the time on the stove. Thirty minutes was plenty of time to finish his duties here, ensure Noctis and Prompto needed nothing else from him, and make it to the restaurant Gladio had described. He knew the place well. It was an oft-requested breakfast location for Noctis, who preferred a greasy slab of cheese for breakfast over the fruit and toast Ignis was likely to plan for him. 

 

_ I will be there _ . He responded, then applied himself to tidying up the kitchen.

 

Exactly thirty minutes later, no sooner, no later, Ignis walked through the door of the restaurant and cast an eye around for Gladio. The establishment was largely empty at such a late hour, but it was easy to identify Gladiolus’ massive frame squeezed into one of the booths set along the back wall. It was a more private location, Ignis noted, and tried not to think too hard about the reasoning for that as he weaved his way through narrow aisles to reach his friend. 

“Good evening,” he greeted Gladio, sliding into the booth opposite him. “Are we to eat here as well?”

Gladio looked up from the menu he was holding and smiled at Ignis. “If you want.” He reached over on the seat next to him and brought up the sketchpad to hand over to Ignis. “I’m starving, and I don’t mind the company.”

Ignis took the pad with both hands, tucking it beneath the table on his lap, out of sight. “Very well.” He picked up a second menu, Gladio must have been expecting him to stay, and browsed it for anything that might pass for a reasonable late night meal. Honestly, he should have suspected the healthiest thing such a place might have at this hour was a cup of soup left on the burner for the last twelve hours. 

“Sorry about looking through your stuff,” Gladio rumbled when Ignis sighed and placed the menu down on the table. “I got curious.”

Ignis fiddled with the laminated corner of the menu that was beginning to peel backward. “It’s no trouble. They’re only sketches, after all.” 

Only sketches, his left foot. Ignis had thought Gladio’s body beautiful. That he was privileged enough to study it in detail - that was something of a fantasy. He’d seen Gladio naked, of course, but he had never been on display, and never for  _ him _ .

Even if it was only a joke. 

Gladio finally put down his menu, and peered at Ignis’ face in such a way that made him feel like he was somehow under great scrutiny. It was difficult, if not impossible, to hide oneself from Gladio’s penetrating stare, and Ignis congratulated himself on managing a level expression when faced with his keen observation. Despite that, he still felt as if he were being laid open beneath that gaze, and suppressed a shiver at the weight of it. 

“You’re really good, you know,” Gladio spoke, but he continued staring intently before he broke the compelling spell with a cheeky grin. “Must be ‘cause I was the subject.”

Ignis rolled his eyes, about to poke back at Gladio’s insufferable sense of humor when the waitress arrived. She poured them each a mug of coffee, strong stuff, that Ignis could smell from where he sat. They ordered, only Gladio eating anything substantial, and she moved off to parts unknown with an easy, tired smile. 

“Looked like you wanted to say something,” Gladio spoke, and took a sip of coffee. “Shit! The hell is this stuff made out of?” He made a face at the taste of the liquid in his mug, and proceeded to raid the little cream and sugar caddy on their table.

Ignis counted twelve packets of fake sugar, and three creams before Gladio had deemed the drink suitable enough to attempt to taste once more. All the while Ignis smiled, preferring his coffee black. 

“Don’t smirk at me like that. This stuff is bitter!” Gladio complained.

“Coffee is supposed to be bitter,” Ignis explained.

“Whatever, smartass,” he groused, but he wasn’t truly upset. The entire restaurant would know if he was. “So, spill. You were about to cut me down for being full of myself.”

“Was I?” 

Ignis was being coy and he knew it, but how could he resist teasing Gladio? It seemed their entire friendship was full of well-meant barbs and small challenges. Even so, Gladio appeared to enjoy it just as much as Ignis.

“Yeah, so tell me why there are a hundred drawings of my ass in that book of yours,” Gladio smirked, and Ignis flushed beet red again.

Though he maintained his outward composure, Ignis’ next words sounded too quick and too forced even to his ears. “There were  _ not _ one hundred, first of all. Second, when I observe a thing of beauty, I wish to immortalize it on paper-.”

Ignis cut himself off as he realized what he was saying. Unfortunately, the words were out in the open, resting between them. Ignis knew Gladio’s teasing would be nigh relentless now that he believed Ignis thought his body beautiful.

Which he did.

But Gladio didn’t  _ need _ to know that.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Gladio asked, batting his eyelashes at Ignis. 

As they stared each other down, Gladio’s gaze curious and … oddly heated, while Ignis scrambled for a way to get out of the hole he’d dug for himself, their food arrived. Well, Gladio’s food arrived. He tucked in immediately, but still had ignis pinned to the seat of the booth with those eyes of his.

Embarrassed, Ignis retreated into his coffee. He was disappointed when the murky depths of his mug held no answers for him. He wanted to tell Gladio the truth, that he thought he was probably one of the finest people Ignis had ever met, and yet he was also afraid. The silence stretched on for a long moment before Ignis felt a nudge against his shin beneath the table. He looked up, meeting Gladio’s smiling eyes again, and felt some of his tension ease. 

“I think you’re pretty attractive too,” Gladio hummed quietly, cheeks a little flushed.

“Don’t fuss,” Ignis replied too quickly. “Or say those things if you don’t mean them.”

Gladio’s eyebrows rose, as if he weren’t expecting Ignis to have such a vehement response to his words. “I’m not fussing. I’m telling the truth. I think you’re sexy.”

“ _ Gladio _ ,” Ignis stressed, choking down his coffee. Where on Eos was this conversation headed? What game was his friend playing at now?

“Let me finish,” Gladio replied firmly, but gently nudged Ignis’ shin again. “It’s more than just your physique, though. You’re sharp, and you’re always to the point. You don’t pussyfoot around with people, and I admire that kind of direct honesty. It’s hard to come by.”

Ignis floundered for words, which was a decidedly unusual and uncomfortable experience, and came up with nothing. He must have looked disbelieving, however, because Gladio soldiered on.

“I’m telling the truth, Ignis.” His brows drew down a moment in a small frown. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I guess I was being kind of an ass to your earlier at the class. But when I saw your sketchbook I thought-. Well, I guess I thought what I saw there meant that you might be attracted to me, at least a little. I mean, well, not just the sketches, cause that would be assuming a lot, but the way you looked at me.” Gladio paused, and rubbed at his chin. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, really. It’s just how you look at me. I feel … alive.” At the last moment he seemed to lose his nerve. “Well, this got awkward. Sorry, Iggy. I’ve just been keeping this pent up for a while now. I guess I thought this might be my chance to say something.” He scratched his chin again. “I sound stupid.”

Ignis gently set his mug down on the table, trying to catch Gladio’s gaze which now seemed to be running from him. He was shaking, on the inside at any rate, having never anticipated anything like  _ this _ to come from Gladio. Ignis had always thought his invasion of his personal space, the teasing, the flirtation, was just Gladio. He’d never considered that his friend might actually  _ mean _ anything he said or did. And that, Ignis thought, made him feel like an absolute moron.

“You don’t sound stupid,” Ignis said, and tentatively, Gladio’s gaze returned to his, and Ignis felt the warmth of his consideration like the rays of the sun against his skin. “I only don’t know what to say,” Ignis admitted quietly. “I wasn’t expecting-. Any of this.”

Gladio laughed, though it was a sort of weak, depreciated sound that Ignis  _ hated _ . “Well, guess the ball’s in your court.”

“I suppose that it is.”

Ignis could not process the situation well enough to reassure Gladio before they both had to leave the restaurant, but he did offer his friend a smile and a wish goodnight. His thoughts were a maelstrom of moments, really, storming around in his head as he examined every bloody second of his life with Gladio from the moment he’d realized he had feelings for the man. 

He had a short walk home, and in the dead of night when the streets of Insomnia were largely quiet, he appreciated the opportunity to think as he moved. There was no question that he wanted Gladio, in every way. He’d desired it for years, but simply hadn’t believed it possible. And why was that? Ignis wondered as he crossed an intersection. Why had he thought Gladio incapable of returning his feelings?

They trained together, worked together, they spent more time in each other’s presence than many in founded relationships. Perhaps the reason for his ignorance had stemmed from Gladio’s undeniable charisma. It was something Ignis did not have and, he supposed, Gladio was simply assumed to be beyond his reach. People like Gladio didn’t date people like Ignis, the little voice in the back of his head supplied, because introverts like Ignis were disinteresting to extroverts like Gladio.

At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Wrongly, apparently. Very wrongly.

Now that he held Gladio’s attention, or affection, rather, what was he supposed to do with it? Did he react the way he wished - to throw his arms around his friend and bury his nose at the nape of his neck and just  _ be _ and feel the peace of mind Gladio brought with him wherever he went? Or did Ignis cooly accept Gladio’s affection, and pretend to be as aloof and put together as he always did?

It was a silly question, really. Gladio preferred warmth and honesty. He’d said as much not an hour ago, but Ignis felt he held power behind his carefully constructed persona. He felt secure there, he could be honest, certainly, but he wanted to assure Gladio that he felt the same. Without reservations, Ignis wanted Gladio to know how he really felt. 

So he needed to develop a plan. Fortunately, Ignis knew he was very proficient where planning was concerned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Ignis.”
> 
> Ignis looked up quickly, perhaps too quickly, to see Gladio smiling down at him. He allowed himself to return the gesture with a quirk of his lips. “Gladio. I was hoping to see you here this week.”
> 
> That seemed to catch him off guard, his smile dissolving into a pair of raised eyebrows and questioning tilt to his head. “Yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> I want to apologize for the length of this chapter. Life has gotten very busy very quickly for me all of a sudden, and I haven't been able to find the time to finish chapter three the way I had intended. However, I do have something to tide you all over with while I manage my situation. :)  
> I hope you enjoy!

A week had passed since Ignis’ conversation with Gladio at the diner, and it was a week in which their relationship had returned much to how it had been before Gladio’s confession. Ignis was sorry for it, largely because he knew his reticence to speak to his own feelings had shut Gladio down. He was graceful about the situation, however, because when Ignis next saw him, he acted as though nothing had happened between them. Their rapport had been maintained - except the teasing. There were no more flirtatious gestures, no more seemingly innocent touches, nothing. 

He wanted to scream.

_ The ball’s in your court _ , Gladio had said, and Ignis was still hesitant to play, but he couldn’t stand the distance between them any longer. When Gladio’s teasing had become a source of connection for Ignis, he couldn’t say, but he missed that ease and the smile it would bring - even if it was just for a day. 

By the end of the week, Ignis had resolved himself to finally do something about his situation. He needed to step out of his own head and _rectify_ this, because he _did_ want Gladio in the same way. He was infatuated with the man, had been for ages, and Ignis was doing neither of them any favors by allowing his fear of rejection to stifle the potential for their relationship to grow.

So he found himself in front of Doctor Sketchy’s for a second week, and allowed himself inside. Once again he was hit with the comforting smell of pencil shavings and paper, and it only bolstered his confidence to do what was necessary. What was the worst that could happen, Ignis repeated to himself, when Gladio had already laid his feelings out for examination? Everything would be perfectly fine. He’d his plan in order, and he was counting on Gladio’s sense of adventure and insatiable curiosity to work in his favor. 

He would need to wait until the class was over, Ignis mused as he signed himself and entered the classroom. Gladio was inside, wearing a robe for modesty while he leaned over the shoulder of one of the attendees. They were discussing sketches from last week, and the expression on Gladio’s face seemed rather matter-of-fact, if sincere, which Ignis noted was not at all how he’d reacted to  _ his _ sketches. 

Ignis maneuvered silently to the space he’d occupied the week before, not wishing to disturb Gladio’s conversation, and began to unpack his supplies. As he waited for the rest of the class to find their way inside, he browsed through his sketches, all of which were from last week, and all of which were of Gladio. He hadn’t the time to practice anything else, not with his schedule, but he took a moment to date and title the pages he had used, so he would be able to identify them more easily in the future.

As if he could ever forget Gladio’s suggestive posing while his eyes smiled at him, turning his innards into one quivering mass of repressed desire. 

Ignis breathed slowly out through his nose, and quickly flipped to the following blank page on his sketchpad. 

“Hey, Ignis.”

Ignis looked up quickly, perhaps too quickly, to see Gladio smiling down at him. He allowed himself to return the gesture with a quirk of his lips. “Gladio. I was hoping to see you here this week.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, his smile dissolving into a pair of raised eyebrows and questioning tilt to his head. “Yeah?”

Ignis gathered his nerve. “Yes. May I speak with you after class? There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Could just ask me now,” Gladio replied, and Ignis allowed himself to smile again. 

“I would feel better,” he said, “If the conversation was a bit more private. Is that alright?”

Gladio’s keen gaze raked over Ignis, searching him for any hint of what such a private conversation might entail. Seemingly unable to ferret out anything of interest in Ignis’ kindly neutral expression, Gladio nodded and released a disappointed huff of air that Ignis thought rather endearing.

Always so curious.

“Sure. Yeah. That’s fine, if you got time,” Gladio relented.

Ignis peered at him over the rim of his glasses, more assured now than ever that he was making the right decision. “I have all the time in the world.”

For his part, Gladio’s blush only lasted a moment, but Ignis had caught it and felt smug enough to grin triumphantly as his friend excused himself to wander back to the stage as the class began. The session proceeded as normal, Ignis thought, with Gladio performing his short and long poses for the artists present. Though, perhaps it was just Ignis’ imagination, but every so often, he could  _ feel _ Gladio’s eyes on him, but when he looked, they shifted quickly away. 

A pity. Ignis would have loved to try and render them. He’d missed his opportunity the first time.

An hour of shifting, curious glances ensued as both Ignis and Gladio played a game of cat and mouse with their eyes. Ignis was trying to pounce on Gladio’s previous flirtatious meddling and emulate it, while Gladio, appearing unsure, couldn’t decide whether or not it was wise to even  _ look _ at Ignis.

It was absolutely ridiculous, Ignis thought, and yet also heartwarming. It was heartening to know Gladio apparently felt so deeply about their friendship that he was willing to forego his prior behavior merely for Ignis’ comfort, under the assumption that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. And not for the first time, Ignis felt immensely guilty that he had not gathered his wits about himself quickly enough to tell his friend that he was desperately and hopelessly attracted to him. 

After the other patrons had gone, and Ignis has meticulously packed away his supplies, he approached Gladio, who had stood waiting, and dressed, near the exit. As he walked he fortified himself with a deep breath, feeling a nervous tremble in his stomach as doubt began to creep into the edges of his thoughts.

Perhaps Gladio had changed his mind? What if he thought Ignis not worth the trouble of pursuit? Maybe he had seen the doubt Ignis struggled with, and decided that he was not so honest and forthright after all?

“So what’d you want to talk about?” Gladio’s clear, steady voice cut through Ignis’ musings, blessedly clearing the anxiety from the fore of his thoughts. “Did Noct do something stupid?”

Ignis thought Gladio ought to consider the being of their Prince before asking such a question. Noctis was always up to something questionable, but that wasn’t the point of the conversation he wished to have. 

“No, Noctis is, hopefully, studying for his classes.”

Gladio interrupted him with a disbelieving snort.

“Rather,” Ignis continued, taking another deep breath, “I was wondering if you might go out with me tomorrow night. There is a street fair in the university district featuring a few Lucian folk artists that I’ve been interested in meeting. There is produce vendor from Lestallum as well, selling that seasonal fruit Noctis will actually eat.”

Gladio eyed him for a long moment. “You askin’ me out on a date?”

“I-” Ignis hesitated, but forged on. He’d made his decision, and he didn’t want to go backward on this. This was his opportunity, and he’d be damned if he was going to miss it again. “Yes.” He adjusted his glasses, a nervous gesture. “I am asking you out on a date.”

The suspicious air with which Gladio had regarded him evaporated almost instantly, replaced by a warm smile and a toothy grin that eased some of the tension in Ignis’ chest. “Sure,” he said, sounding eager. “Sounds like fun. What time?”

“I’ll be finished tutoring Noctis and Prompto around eight.”

Gladio quirked a questioning brow. “You teaching blondie how to be a king too?”

Ignis chuckled, and leaned closer to Gladio. “They’re always together regardless. I may as well.”

“Yeah I like the kid too. Motivates Noct.” 

Gladio brushed Ignis’ shoulder as he moved to open the door, and whether or not it was intentional, Ignis felt the warmth of it through his clothes. The contact felt almost electric, and he was perhaps too eager, too daring, when he squeezed past Gladio in the same doorway, brushing against him as he did so. Were he not so dedicated to appealing to Gladio, he rather thought it was something he’d be too embarrassed to do.

His friend, however, seemed to mind not at all and, in fact, the secret lilt of a smile in his eyes assured Ignis that he had done something right. 

“You walking home?” Gladio asked as they made their way past the reception desk and out onto the sidewalk.

“Yes. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

It was spoken in such a no-nonsense way that, if Ignis wanted to argue, he imagined he could not find reason enough to deter Gladio from his course. It was another of the things he admired so much about him - his self-assured tenacity. It was rather thrilling to be on the receiving end of such focus. 

“If it’s no trouble,” Ignis finally replied.

“No trouble at all. It’s getting late. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Ignis hummed thoughtfully, glancing up at Gladio, assessing.

“Not saying you’re weak or nothing,” Gladio was quick to point out after he’d the chance to think about what he’d said. “Just thought it might be nice to not have to be so hyper aware.”

Ignis began walking, leading Gladio down the sidewalk and to the busier side of the block. “Thank you, Gladio.” He said as they matched their pace to walk shoulder to shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Despite Ignis’ invitation and Gladio’s seeming returning warmth, the walk back to Ignis’ apartment was silent. It was a welcome silence, however, one that Ignis found comfortable and easy. He could simply take a moment to process his feelings to himself while next to Gladio’s solid presence, his elbow occasionally, if not intentionally, bumping into Ignis’ as they moved.

For his part, Ignis was almost disappointed when they reached the entrance to his apartment building. “We’re here,” he said, lamely.  _ Obviously, Ignis,  _ he chastised himself.  _ What an absolutely asinine thing to say _ . 

Gladio shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing up at the high-rise apartments before his attention returned to Ignis. He looked as if he wanted to say something, and Ignis waited, patiently, soon finding himself being drawn in by Gladio’s gaze. His friend was in his personal space again, large and commanding and overwhelming in the  _ best _ way. Ignis thought he could even smell Gladio’s cologne. 

“Yep,” Gladio agreed, staring intently at Ignis for another long, excruciating moment before rocking back on his heels to break the magnetic distance between them. “So tomorrow. Eight. Here?”

“That’s correct,” Ignis inclined his head, then risked a small, nearly imperceptible smile. “I will see you then.”

Gladio grinned. “Definitely. Night, Ignis. I-uh-,” he hesitated again, indecision clear in his expressive gaze before he seemed to come to a decision and took a step backward. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Ignis’ resisted the temptation to goad Gladio into revealing what he had been truly about to say. As hungry as he was for the truth, he could be patient, and Gladio would likely out with it in due time. “Goodnight, Gladio,” Ignis hummed. “Stay safe.”

“Always am. Night!”

“You said that,” Ignis chuckled.

Gladio ducked his head. “Right, well, night!”

Crossing his arms, Ignis watched Gladio walk down the sidewalk until his broad shoulders disappeared from view. Only then did he turn back to his own apartment, and make the long climb up the stairwell to his door. 

_ That went well _ , he mused to himself as he twisted his house key in the lock and stepped into his home. He set his drawing supplies down on his dining room table before divesting himself of his jacket. Gladio appeared to be in much higher spirits, and the sense of accomplishment that followed that realization suffused Ignis with warmth.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could feel Gladio’s appraising gaze skimming over him with no small amount of heated interest.  
> “You look good,” He rumbled, and the sound went shuddering down the length of Ignis’ spine.  
> “I could say the same,” Ignis quickly parried, smiling faintly at Gladio’s slow, pleased grin.  
> “Yeah?” Gladio leaned in slightly, one forearm resting against the doorjamb as he crowded into Ignis’ personal space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! :D That means I passed my exam! Huzzah!  
> Welp, here's the reason this fic is rated explicit, and the end. Thanks for sticking around, everyone! I really appreciate all of the supportive comments and kudos, especially since I'm still learning how to wiggle with Gladnis. <3

The following day was an excruciating exercise in patience and restraint. Both of these things, many would say, Ignis was particularly gifted with, but as of late Ignis felt himself teetering closer and closer to the edge of recklessness. At least where Gladiolus was concerned. 

Since he had asked his friend out the night before, the tension between Ignis and Gladio had come alive once again. During their shifts, passing one another in the halls of the Citadel, Ignis could feel it between them, taught and threatening to snap with each smiling wink Gladio aimed his way. Ignis had been so unable to hide his pleasure at Gladio’s attention that by the time he had returned to his apartment his cheeks were aching from trying to suppress his smile.

It was strange, Ignis thought as he checked his reflection in his bathroom mirror, that somehow choosing to acknowledge the feelings he had for Gladio had made him more aware of the other’s presence - of how he behaved in a way that was no longer pointless teasing but deliberate flirtation. How long had Gladio been trying to gain his attention? And how long had Ignis’ ignorance barred him from giving Gladio a chance? It wasn’t something comforting to think about, he decided, running his hands through his hair for the third time since he’d begun getting ready for his date.

Ignis felt his heart throb, both in excitement and fear. 

He had never really done this before, not with someone he knew well beforehand. He had a history with Gladio, a long one originating in childhood and developing throughout their adult lives, and instead of calming him that notion made his heart beat faster with trepidation. Perhaps because he stood something to lose. He counted on Gladio’s friendship, and the brief, awful taste of his indifference he’d endured was not something Ignis wished to repeat.

 

_ Be there in five. _

 

Ignis adjusted his glasses, smiling at the message that interrupted his whirling thoughts and shifted his focus from his nerves to ensuring he had everything he needed before leaving his apartment. In no time at all Gladio’s heavy knock sounded on the front door.

Perhaps he was a bit too eager to answer, but the moment Ignis unlocked and opened the door he was greeted with Gladio’s warm smile and the clean scent of his cologne. He was dressed very much like himself in a pair of fitted dark jeans and shirt covered with his favorite leather jacket, also a favorite of Ignis’. 

Ignis wasn’t the only one staring, either. He could feel Gladio’s appraising gaze skimming over him with no small amount of heated interest.

“You look good,” He rumbled, and the sound went shuddering down the length of Ignis’ spine.

“I could say the same,” Ignis quickly parried, smiling faintly at Gladio’s slow, pleased grin.

“Yeah?” Gladio leaned in slightly, one forearm resting against the doorjamb as he crowded into Ignis’ personal space.

Ignis, for his part, felt himself being drawn closer. He  _ liked _ feeling Gladio surrounding him, and he  _ liked _ being the subject of the man’s razor sharp focus. It was thrilling, really, in a way that made his toes curl inside his shoes and his blood rush inside his ears. Everything Gladio offered, Ignis wanted. And Ignis  _ wanted _ to pull him down and draw that full lower lip into his mouth.

“Of course,” he said instead, placing a hand on Gladio’s stomach to gently maneuver him out of the way while he exited his apartment and closed the door. Gladio didn’t move far, settling instead to allow Ignis’ hand to linger on him a little longer. “Shall we be on our way?”

Gladio seemed only a little disappointed when Ignis stepped away, removing his hand. “Sure. Lead the way. You said you wanted to talk to a few artists there?”

Ignis nodded, walking slightly ahead of Gladio as he descended the stairs of his apartment building. “Quite a few, actually. I came across the event from an advertisement in one of Noctis’ university newspapers. Apparently one such artist studies and recreates the runic decorations that can be seen marking the havens across the continent. Did you know that the folklore behind them surrounds warding off daemons?”

Gladio cocked his head, considering Ignis’ words while they emerged onto the sidewalk and worked their way toward the university district. “My dad used to tell me stories about them actually.” At ignis’ inquisitive glance in his direction, he clarified. “I mean, not specifically, but during King Regis’ trip to Accordo they used the havens exclusively since none of the towns were safe. Guess the daemons never really bothered them.”

“Fascinating,” Ignis murmured. “Do you think it has something to do with the crystal?”

Gladio rolled one massive shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I don’t think so. The havens are so spread out. Seems kind of a waste of energy too.”

At that, the pair of them slowed their pace and looked out across the skyline to where the shimmering, iridescent glint of the Wall stood sentinel against Imperial invasion. Born and sustained from the King’s connection to the crystal, it required a great deal of energy from Regis. To think that the havens might also be connected to such a protective force seemed rather incredible.

“So,” Gladio hummed, steering the topic away from the melancholy topic of their King’s flagging strength, “this guy recreates some of the runes?”

“Yes,” Ignis replied, resuming his purposeful stride, “though I doubt they’re functional, I’ve only ever seen the images in books.”

“What about the others you were interested in seeing? Tell me about em.”

Ignis spent the rest of their journey to the university district telling Gladio about the particular artists he wanted to see and what, specifically, about their work had intrigued him. There was an ease to their conversation, as there always had been when speaking with Gladio, but now something was emerging from beneath the surface of their friendship. It was new, hard to pin down, and growing between them like something wild and undiscovered. It made Ignis’ chest ache and his stomach flutter.

Those feelings only intensified when, pressing into the crowd of the street fair, Gladio had tentatively reached between them to take Ignis’ hand. “This okay?” he asked, voice gruff and a little wary.

Ignis could only nod and squeeze Gladio’s hand in reassurance, and try to keep himself from getting lost inside of his own head once more. Of course he knew this gesture went beyond friendship. Of course he knew that it was romantic. Ignis prided himself in being able to understand just about anything, generally speaking, but it was specifics he hungered for. He desired to know the precise thoughts traveling through Gladio’s mind that very moment.

As the night drew on, and the streets more crowded, Ignis found himself pressing closer to Gladio. Slowly, over the course of a few conversations and the hours it took to visit nearly every stand at the fair, Ignis’ hand went from being entwined with Gladio’s to drifting slowly up his forearm until his palm finally rested on the other’s bicep. Their arms were linked, and in the face of the crush of people and Ignis’ own rushing heartbeat Gladio had steadied him. If Ignis leaned on Gladio a little harder than was necessary, or if he had curled himself closer for no particular reason, Gladio didn’t comment. If anything, his animated, genuine conversation only further demonstrated his desire for Ignis to remain so close at his side. 

It was a heady feeling, to be so wanted.

“Well, looks like we hit the end of the fair,” Gladio hummed good-naturedly.

Their walk slowed somewhat, and Ignis peered up at Gladio’s face curiously. “So we have. I rather lost track of the time.”

Gladio chuckled and shrugged. “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

Instead of stopping where the street ended, he drew Ignis across the blockaded roadway and over toward a secluded bench. It was nestled between two brick-faced high rises, and backed with the dense foliage of a few overgrown shrubs. It was quiet there, more quiet than the fair, at any rate, and Ignis found himself gently pried loose from Gladio’s arm and brought to stand in front of him. While he wasn’t used to being directed anywhere, Ignis rather liked the gentle guidance. 

“So,” Ignis began, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “You enjoyed yourself?”

Gladio focused on the movement of his mouth, eyes narrowing with interest. “Yeah. I don’t normally go out to things like this. It was nice.” He hesitated, and Ignis thought there might have been something more that he wanted to say. Ignis didn’t have to stifle his curiosity long, however, because Gladio, earnest soul that he was, suddenly forged on. “What I mean is, it was nice with you. As in, if you weren’t here, I don’t think it would have been-,” he cut himself off. “I sound like an idiot.”

A slow, pleased smile curled the corners of Ignis’ mouth. “You? Mistaken for an idiot? Never.”

Gladio’s shy reticence slowly morphed back into his usual flirtatious demeanor, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “You teasin’ me?”

“Perhaps a little.” Ignis stepped forward, further invading Gladio’s personal space, and the man did not seem to mind in the least even if the lapels on their respective jackets brushed together. Ignis could  _ feel _ the heat radiating off of Gladio, a welcome counterpoint to the slight chill in the night air. The comfort it offered afforded him the self assurance he needed to enact the next phase of his plan. “Might I ask you a question?”

Gladio cocked a hip, resting his weight on one leg as his nostrils flared with … frustration? Ignis couldn’t rightly tell. “Go ahead. Shoot.”

“Do you remember what you said at the diner - about the ball being in my court?”

Color suffused Gladio’s cheeks. “Aw, hell, Iggy. I was being an ass about it. I shouldn’t have pressured you-”

“Wait.” Ignis interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall Gladio’s inevitable and misplaced apology. “Your comment caused me to consider a great deal about how I viewed our relationship and, subsequently, whether or not I wanted things to continue as they were or, as you intimated, do something about the mutual attraction we share.”

“But-”

Ignis leveled Gladio with a  _ look.  _ “You’re interrupting.”

He ducked his head quickly. “Sorry.”

Ignis allowed his expression to soften a little. “Will you allow me to do something about it, Gladiolus?”

“What are you gonna do?” Gladio asked, and something primal and dark and curious shifted behind his gaze as he regarded Ignis with a curious tilt to his head. His reply was so quiet, so clearly meant for Ignis’ ears alone, that the gravelly timbre nearly vibrated in the air around them. 

Ignis pressed closer, catching and holding Gladio’s penetrative stare. “Answer the question.”

“Yeah, Iggy. I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

The admission ignited Ignis’ blood, speeding his pounding heart to a pace that felt almost lethal. Before his courage could fail him, Ignis curled his fingers into the collar of Gladio’s jacket and tugged him nearer, meeting the forward motion of Gladio’s lips with his own. 

The first kiss was quick, barely a peck to the mouth that left so much to be desired. Ignis didn’t want to push his luck, though. He knew Gladio well, but he was taking a risk, and a risk, no matter how small or trivial, still held the potential for failure. Thankfully, Gladio’s disappointed huff at Ignis’ immediate withdrawal eradicated any doubt he might have had about his friend’s desire for the kind of relationship he was offering.

He pressed forward again, his lips meeting Gladio’s while the other’s arms circled his waist and held him fast against a broad chest. Arms trapped between their bodies, Ignis could hardly move, not that he dare do anything to jeopardize the maddeningly slow and attentive manner in which Gladio was exploring his mouth. His tongue pressed gently against lips and teeth, curling forward inside of his mouth so far Ignis thought, were Gladio a daemon, he might have been trying to imbibe his very soul.

Ignis squirmed in Gladio’s arms, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building between his legs at a simple kiss. A simple, very heated kiss with a man he’d secretly fantasized about for too many years to count. 

One thick, strong arm shifted lower, down to his arse, and pinned Ignis’ lower body firmly to Gladio’s own. The gesture was echoed by a possessive rumble more akin to a growl than any sound Ignis had ever heard Gladio make, and when the other drew his lip between his teeth and bit him Ignis could do nothing roll his hips against him and pray to whatever higher power existed that he wouldn’t embarrass himself. He pried his hands free from between their bodies and reached up to thread his fingers into Gladio’s soft, thick hair, tugging gently at the roots while maneuvering to take back some control of their kiss from Gladio, much as he enjoyed the overpowering sense of possessiveness.

Gladio allowed the subtle change of tack, relinquishing his command in favor of plying Ignis’ body by other means. One such clever idea had Gladio’s broad hands palming down the backs of Ignis’ thighs and tugging upward, and although Ignis was momentarily startled by the quick and forceful alteration of gravity it only felt natural to secure himself by bracketing Gladio’s hips with his legs. Only when the shock of his own arousal firmly seating up against Gladio’s did the scandalous nature of their position break through the lustful fog clouding Ignis’ better judgement.

“Wait.”

Gladio froze, all heated tension trembling beneath Ignis’ legs like he was some great beast on the verge of casting off a final shackle of self-restraint. His lips hovered, unmoving, to Ignis’ jaw, and he could feel Gladio’s heavy breaths puffing out against the sensitive skin of his neck well enough to make him shudder. 

“What do you need, Iggy? Something wrong?”

“No. Only-.” He extracted himself from Gladio’s hold and found his feet again, looking up into his friend’s curious, if worried, eyes. “This is  _ rather _ public,” Ignis finally revealed, casting a wary eye back toward the fair. And although none seemed to be paying either of them any attention, Ignis was leery of creating a scene that might eventually reflect poorly on the Crown, and by extension, Noctis. 

Gladio hummed his reply, and Ignis tried to ignore the way he shifted on his feet to adjust himself. “It is. You, uh-. You wanna head back to my place? Isn’t far from here.”

Ignis only had to consider the offer a moment before he was taking Gladio’s hand and leading him down the sidewalk in the direction of the man’s apartment. Fortune favored the bold, or so they said. Ignis was inclined to agree, what with the pleased little chuckle Gladio let lose the moment he had understood where it was they were headed. 

The walk to Gladio’s apartment was a catastrophic failure of discretion on both of their parts, and by the time they stumbled through the doorway of Gladio’s home Ignis was shoving that gorgeous leather jacket over broad shoulders and considering whether or not he might save the button on Gladio’s trousers were he to simply tear at them how he wanted. Gladio apparently had no such reservations about Ignis attire, however, when he twisted Ignis’ shirt open and sent several tiny bits of metal skittering across the hardwood floor. 

Normally, Ignis would have been angry - should have been angry, but Ifrit’s  _ ass _ he couldn’t be bothered to make a fuss about something so trivial when Gladio was backing him up against a wall and growling  _ ‘sorry’  _ into the curve of his neck. Gladio’s hand cupped him firmly through the fabric of his trousers, driving a small whine of need through Ignis’ teeth.

“That’s it, Iggy,” Gladio hummed, nipping at the skin of Ignis’ neck and down to his exposed collar. He squeezed Ignis once more before brushing his hand up the seam of his trousers to unfasten them, then slid his palm inside. “I want to hear you come undone for me.”

The warmth flesh of Gladio’s hand met Ignis’ fever-hot arousal and he groaned loudly, pressing forward into the other’s grip on instinct. Emboldened, Ignis reached for Gladio, twisting his fingers into the other’s hair while one hand tugged at Gladio’s thin shirt. 

“You first,” Ignis parried, earning him a wry grin and a chuckle that vibrated along the entire length of his body.

“Keep grabbing at my hair like that, and I might oblige.”

Ignis’ fingers tightened momentarily in response, wanting to see just how affected Gladio could be by the stimulation when the other pulled away, withdrawing his hand from Ignis’ cock and leaving him bereft. He was disappointed with the loss until Gladio began stripping, pulling his shirt above his head to reveal an expanse of tanned, toned muscle. There was a very faint dusting of dark hair spread across his chest and down his stomach, thickening just before disappearing beneath the waistband of Gladio’s trousers. 

“I’d rather grab something else,” Ignis murmured shortly before dragging Gladio forward by his vacant belt loops. He made quick work of Gladio’s trousers, shoving them down over his narrow hips and revealing the heavy, hard arousal hidden beneath. At once Ignis dropped to his knees, feeling the keen urge to lay his mouth on that gorgeous cock.

“Iggy,” Gladio’s voice sounded a little feeble, “You don’t have to-.”

“Hush.” 

Ignis leaned forward, skimming the pads of his fingers along the underside of Gladio’s arousal. It was flushed and dark, leaking from the tip as if just kissing and some heavy petting was all it had taken to work Gladio up to the point of release. Just the notion alone made Ignis’ own cock twitch for attention as it pressed against his trousers. Did Gladio desire him so much? 

Well, Ignis rather thought he should reciprocate and show Gladio just how wanted he was.

He breathed out against the head of Gladio’s cock before taking him in, his lips wrapping around velvet-smooth skin with practiced ease. Gladio shuddered above him and Ignis could hear the thud on the wall as the other caught himself on his forearms.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Gladio growled.

Ignis smiled and took him deeper, bringing a free hand up to grip the base of Gladio’s cock firmly while he laved his tongue across heated flesh. He quickly found a rhythm, exploiting Gladio’s tells in much the same way as when they sparred together. His grip would tighten just so at a particular sigh, he’d hollow his cheeks a bit more when Gladio leaned further into him, and as Gladio’s breath began to hitch and deepen, Ignis pulled away with an obscenely wet slurp. He could taste Gladio on the tip of his tongue and at the back of his throat, reveling in the evidence of his arousal while he smeared saliva and precome over the head of Gladio’s cock with a thumb. 

“Good?” Ignis asked coyly.

He offered Gladio a cheeky grin which morphed into a dark chuckle when he reached down to haul Ignis up by his shoulders. 

“C’mere,” Gladio rumbled, looping his arms beneath Ignis’ ass to lift him up and carry him further into the apartment. One moment Ignis was half naked in Gladio’s arms, and the next he was being pressed down into the soft cushions of his couch. 

Ignis squirmed beneath Gladio’s bulk, shimmying out of his trousers and underclothes while his behemoth of a - … lover? Is that what he was now? - fumbled around in the stand next to the couch. A moment later he withdrew a container of lube from next to the remotes and game controllers, and Ignis arched a brow, saying nothing, but judging rather a lot.

“What?” Gladio huffed, eying Ignis’ expression while he emptied some of the container’s contents onto his hand. 

“In the television stand, Gladiolus?”

Gladio grinned, reaching down to pump him cock with his slick hand. “What’s the point of having a big screen if you’re not watching porn on it, Iggy?”

Ignis made a show of rolling his eyes, teasing Gladio before the man pressed his hips downward and dragging his slick cock against him, and then it was all he could do to breathe through the ragged moan clawing its way up his throat. Even just the weight of Gladio’s cock had Ignis bucking his hips upward, searching for more friction. 

Gladio pounced at that, using the new angle of Ignis’ body to run a wet finger across his hole. The sensation was maddening, a mixture of relief from the empty feeling Ignis was enduring and the frustration knowing that Gladio was purposefully taking things slow. He moved again, pressing back against Gladio’s touch. This time, his lover mercifully slipped the curious digit inside. 

“ _ Shit _ , you’re loose.”

Ignis pressed back against his hand again, huffing in frustration. “I’m neither abstinent nor delicate, now  _ fuck me _ .”

Gladio hummed, quickly adding a second finger inside Ignis’ ass and spreading him wide. Ignis could feel Gladio’s cock twitching against his thigh, the head nudging gently against his sac as Gladio subtly rocked his hips against him. Gladio added yet another finger, and Ignis reached between his legs to grip Gladio’s arousal firmly. 

His lover rocked into his hand, momentarily pausing his ministrations and losing himself in the feeling of Ignis’ touch. Ignis felt powerful as he watched Gladio hang his head, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure at the contact, and slowly his fingers began to move again. 

He sought a new angle as he leaned over Ignis, crooking his fingers  _ just so _ . Gladio’s touch felt electric so deep inside of him, and Ignis immediately chased after his retreating fingers with a downward thrust of his hips to bring blunt fingertips up against his prostate again. “ _ Gladio! _ ”

Gladio pushed Ignis’ hand on him away before taking himself in hand and rubbing the head of his cock against Ignis’ opening. He wasn’t especially gentle when he pressed inside, the slickness coating his shaft have dried down to create a terribly wonderful  _ burn _ , but Ignis hardly cared. Gladio pulled back, then gently pressed back in, finding a slow, torturous rhythm that was likely meant to drive Ignis insane. 

Gladio was filling him up and bottoming out inside of him, and it was all Ignis could do to remember pull the ends of Gladio’s hair hard enough to bring him down for a kiss. Hot and wet, Gladio’s mouth opened for Ignis, and he fucked hm with his tongue the same way Gladio was fucking his ass. 

With every breath Ignis could feel Gladio’s defined stomach press down against him and his aching cock, and he slid one hand from his lover’s hair, over his shoulder, and around his waist. Firmly, he pressed down on the small of Gladio’s back, using his bulk to provide friction for his weeping arousal before Gladio seemed to understand. He reached between them to grip Ignis’ precome slick cock in his fist, pumping his length in tandem with his hips. 

It was a heady, overwhelming feeling to be so full of Gladio inside and out. He could smell his cologne, his sweat, and the musk of his arousal hanging in the air. Coupled with the absolutely singular sensation of Gladio’s cock in his ass, Ignis was embarrassed to say he did not last as long as he thought he might. 

He was only slightly vindicated by the knowledge that Gladio was having trouble holding himself back as well. Only moment after Ignis made a mess of his own stomach Gladio grunted, hips stuttering as he met his release, burying his head in the crook of Ignis’ neck.

Ignis wasn’t precisely certain when he caught his breath, or how long Gladio had been pressing tiny affectionate kisses along the curve of his shoulder. He only knew that he was unsuitably  _ sticky _ and that Gladio’s cock was already pressing urgently against his hip and all he wanted to do was curl up against his lover and  _ exist _ .

“You okay?” Gladio asked, folding his arms around Ignis when he turned to face him on the tiny space provided by the couch. 

“I’m fine - happy. This is pleasant. ”

There was a lengthy pause, during which Ignis assumed Gladio might have nodded off, until he spoke once more. “Me too, Iggy. Thanks, you know, for giving me a chance.”

Ignis pressed a kiss to Gladio’s collar. “I believe I should be thanking you.”

Gladio chuckled. “You staying the night?”

“If you’ll have me.”

Gladio pressed himself against Ignis’ hip again. “Think I will.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop it!” Ignis hissed beneath his breath snapping the second piece of charcoal between his fingers in as many minutes.

Gladio observed him with a placid smile, and without pity as he spread his legs a little wider. 

Ignis’ distress and Gladio’s indifference to it went unnoticed by everyone else in the drawing class, but Ignis feared Gladio’s flirting would get out of hand.

‘Make me,’ Gladio mouthed when the timer to change positions rang. 

This time, instead of choosing a sitting position he stood and jutted one hip forward, putting his cock on plain display while still looking as if he were imitating the features of a classical statue. Ignis wasn’t fooled, though he was certainly embarrassed and beguiled by the attention. Gladio would pay for his flirtatious nature, especially considering Ignis could do nothing about the problem in his trousers at that very moment without giving himself away.

Furiously, Ignis attempted to focus on the lesson, feeling the weight of Gladio’s heated stare raking over him. Gladio was rather shameless regarding his possessive nature of Ignis. It was even more vexing when neither had seen one another for some time. Their duties occasionally landed them on opposite schedules, and the drawing session was, thankfully, one common feature from week to week they both made time for. However, it lead to sessions like this, where Gladio was fucking Ignis plainly with his eyes. 

When the class ended, Ignis patiently waited for the participants to leave before rising from his seat. He left his supplies, purposefully striding toward Gladio to take his hand and drag him off stage. 

“Come,” was all he said, leading Gladio into the changing room at the back of the space. 

Gladio laughed. “Hell yeah.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mahbecks and RedHawkeRevolver for being such an inspiration for Gladnis. What can I say? You guys ... are the best!
> 
> Also, Dr. Sketchy's is a REAL place! I go there to practice my drawing skills all the time. Look them up and see if they're located in your city too!


End file.
